Legacy: Arthurian Saga (50 page)

"Keri?"

But she paid no attention. She slid
out from the shadows and, quickly and lightly, ran up the steps to
Uther's door. I heard the sentry challenge, then a murmur, and a
soft laugh from the man.

When I drew level with Uther's doorway
it was shut. In the light of the torch I saw the smile still on the
sentry's face.

Ambrosius was still sitting at his
table, his servant hovering behind him in the shadows.

He pushed his papers aside and greeted
me. The servant brought wine and poured it, then withdrew and left
us alone.

We talked for a while. He told me what
news there was since I had left Winchester ; the building that had
gone forward, and his plans for the future. Then we spoke of
Tremorinus' work at Caerleon, and so came to the talk of war. I
asked him for the latest about Pascentius, "for," I said, "we have
been waiting weekly to hear that he had landed in the north and was
harrying the countryside."

"Not yet. In fact, if my plans come to
anything, we may hear nothing more of Pascentius until the spring,
and then we shall be more than prepared. If we allow him to come
now, he may well prove more dangerous than any enemy I have yet
fought."

"I've heard something about this. You
mean the Irish news?"

"Yes. The news is bad from Ireland.
You know they have a young king there, Gilloman? A young firedrake,
they tell me, and eager for war. Well, you may have heard it, the
news is that Pascentius is contracted to Gilloman's sister. You see
what this could mean? Such an alliance as that might put the north
and west of Britain both at risk together."

"Is Pascentius in Ireland ? We heard
he was in Germany, gathering support."

"That is so," he said. "I can't get
accurate information about his numbers, but I'd say about twenty
thousand men. Nor have I yet heard what he and Gilloman plan to
do." He lifted an eyebrow at me, amused. "Relax, boy, I haven't
called you here to ask for a prediction. You made yourself quite
clear at Kaerconan; I'm content to wait, like you, on your
god."

I laughed. "I know. You want me for
what you call 'real work.'"

"Indeed. This is it. I am not content
to wait here in Britain while Ireland and Germany gather their
forces and then come together on both our coasts like a summer
storm, and meet in Britain to overwhelm the north. Britain lies
between them now, and she can divide them before ever they combine
to attack."

"And you'll take Ireland
first?"

"Gilloman," he said, nodding. "He's
young and inexperienced -- and he is also nearer. Uther will sail
for Ireland before the month's end." There was a map in front of
him. He half turned it so that I could see. "Here. This is
Gilloman's stronghold; you'll have heard of it, I don't doubt. It
is a mountain fortress called Killare. I have not found a man who
has seen it, but I am told it is strongly fortified, and can be
defended against any assault. I am told, indeed, that it has never
fallen. Now, we can't afford to have Uther sit down in front of it
for months, while Pascentius comes in at the back door. Killare
must be taken quickly, and it cannot -- they tell me -- be taken by
fire."

"Yes?" I had already noticed that
there were drawings of mine on the table among the maps and
plans.

He said, as if at a tangent:
"Tremorinus speaks very highly of you."

"That's good of him." Then, at my own
tangent: "I met Uther outside. He told me what you
wanted."

"Then will you go with
him?"

"I'm at your service, of course. But
sir" -- I indicated the drawings -- "I have made no new designs.
Everything I have designed has already been built here. And if
there is so much hurry --"

"Not that, no. I'm asking for nothing
new. The machines we have are good -- and must serve. What we have
built is ready now for shipping. I want you for more than this." He
paused.

"Killare, Merlin, is more than a
stronghold, it is a holy place, the holy place of the Kings of
Ireland. They tell me the crest of the hill holds a Dance of stone,
a circle such as you knew in Brittany. And on Killare, men say, is
the heart of Ireland and the holy place of Gilloman's kingdom. I
want you, Merlin, to throw down the holy place, and take the heart
out of Ireland."

I was silent.

"I spoke of this to Tremorinus," he
said, "and he told me I must send for you. Will you go?"

"I have said I will. Of
course."

He smiled, and thanked me, not as if
he were High King and I a subject obeying his wish, but as if I
were an equal giving him a favor. He talked then for a little
longer about Killare, what he had heard of it, and what
preparations he thought we should make, and finally leaned back,
saying with a smile: "One thing I regret. I'm going to Maridunum,
and I should have liked your company, but now there is no time for
that. You may charge me with any messages you care to."

"Thank you, but I have none. Even if I
had been there, I would hardly have dared to offer you the
hospitality of a cave."

"I should like to see it."

"Anyone will tell you the way. But
it's hardly fit to receive a King."

I stopped. His face was lit with a
laughter that all at once made him look twenty again. I set down my
cup. "I am a fool. I had forgotten."

"That you were begotten there? I
thought you had. I can find my way to it, never fear."

He spoke then about his own plans. He
himself would stay in Caerleon, "for if Pascentius attacks," he
told me, "my guess is that he will come down this way" -- his
finger traced a line on the map -- "and I can catch him south of
Carlisle. Which brings me to the next thing. There was something
else I wanted to discuss with you. When you last came through
Caerleon on your way to Maridunum in April, I believe you had a
talk with Tremorinus?"

I waited.

"About this." He lifted a sheaf of
drawings -- not mine -- and handed them across. They were not of
the camp, or indeed of any buildings I had seen. There was a
church, a great hall, a tower. I studied them for a few minutes in
silence. For some reason I felt tired, as if my heart were too
heavy for me. The lamp smoked and dimmed and sent shadows dancing
over the papers. I pulled myself together, and looked up at my
father. "I see. You must be talking about the memorial
building?"

He smiled. "I'm Roman enough to want a
visible monument."

I tapped the drawings. "And British
enough to want it British? Yes, I heard that, too."

"What did Tremorinus tell
you?"

"That it was thought some kind of
monument to your victories should be erected, and to commemorate
your kingship of a united kingdom. I agreed with Tremorinus that to
build a triumphal arch here in Britain would be absurd. He did say
that some churchmen wanted a big church built -- the bishop of
Caerleon, for instance, wanted one here. But surely, sir, this
would hardly do? If you build at Caerleon you'll have London and
Winchester, not to mention York, thinking it should have been
there. Of them all, I suppose, Winchester would be the best. It is
your capital."

"No. I've had a thought about this
myself. When I traveled up from Winchester, I came through
Amesbury..." He leaned forward suddenly. "What's the matter,
Merlin? Are you ill?"

"No. It's a hot night, that's all. A
storm coming, I think. Go on. You came through
Amesbury."

"You knew it was my birthplace? Well,
it seemed to me that to put my monument in such a place could give
no cause for complaint -- and there is another reason why it's a
good choice." He knitted his brows. "You're like a sheet, boy. Are
you sure you're all right?"

"Perfectly. Perhaps a little
tired."

"Have you supped? It was thoughtless
of me not to ask."

"I ate on the way, thank you. I have
had all I needed. Perhaps -- some more wine" I half rose, but
before I could get to my feet he was on his, and came round the
table with the jug and served me himself. While I drank he stayed
where he was, near me, sitting back against the table's edge. I was
reminded sharply of how he had stood this way that night in
Brittany when I discovered him. I remember that I held it in my
mind, and in a short while was able to smile at him.

"I am quite well, sir, indeed I am.
Please go on. You were giving me the second reason for putting your
monument at Amesbury."

"You probably know that it is not far
from there that the British dead lie buried, who were slain by
Hengist's treachery. I think it fitting -- and I think there is no
man who will argue with this -- that the monument to my victory, to
the making of one kingdom under one King, should also be a memorial
for these warriors." He paused. "And you might say there is yet a
third reason, more powerful than the other two."

I said, not looking at him, but down
into the cup of wine, and speaking quietly: "That Amesbury is
already the site of the greatest monument in Britain ? Possibly the
greatest in the whole West?"

"Ah." It was a syllable of deep
satisfaction. "So your mind moves this way, too? You have seen the
Giants' Dance?"

"I rode out to it from Amesbury, when
I was on my way home from Winchester."

He stood up at that and walked back
round the table to his chair. He sat, then leaned forward, resting
his hands on the table.

"Then you know how I am thinking. You
saw enough when you lived in Brittany to know what the Dance was
once. And you have seen what it is now -- a chaos of giant stones
in a lonely place where the sun and the winds strike." He added
more slowly, watching me: "I have talked of this to Tremorinus. He
says that no power of man could raise those stones."

I smiled. "So you sent for me to raise
them for you?"

"You know they say it was not men who
raised them, but magic."

"Then," I said, "no doubt they will
say the same again." His eyes narrowed.

"You are telling me you can do
it?"

"Why not?" He was silent, merely
waiting. It was a measure of his faith in me that he did not smile.
I said: "Oh, I've heard all the tales they tell, the same tales
they told in Less Britain of the standing stones. But the stones
were put there by men, sir. And what men put there once, men can
put there again."

"Then if I don't possess a magician,
at least I possess a competent engineer?"

"That's it."

"How will you do it?"

"As yet, I know less than half of it.
But it can be done."

"Then will you do this for me,
Merlin?"

"Of course. Have I not said I am here
only to serve you as best I can? I will rebuild the Giants' Dance
for you, Ambrosius."

"A strong symbol for Britain." He
spoke broodingly now, frowning down at his hands. "I shall be
buried there, Merlin, when my time comes. What Vortigern wanted to
do for his stronghold in darkness, I shall do for mine in the
light; I shall have the body of her King buried under the stones,
the warrior under the threshold of all Britain."

Someone must have drawn the curtains
back from the door. The sentries were out of sight, the camp
silent. The stone doorposts and the heavy lintel lying across them
framed a blue night burning with stars. All round us the vast
shadows reared, giant stones linked like pleached trees where some
hands long since bone had cut the signs of the gods of air and
earth and water. Someone was speaking quietly; a king's voice;
Ambrosius' voice. It had been speaking for some time; vaguely, like
echoes in the dark, I heard it.

"...and while the King lies there
under the stone the Kingdom shall not fall. For as long and longer
than it has stood before, the Dance shall stand again, with the
light striking it from the living heaven. And I shall bring back
the great stone to lay upon the grave-place, and this shall be the
heart of Britain, and from this time on all the kings shall be one
King and all the gods one God. And you shall live again in Britain,
and forever, for we will make between us a King whose name will
stand as long as the Dance stands, and who will be more than a
symbol; he will be a shield and a living sword."

It was not the King's voice; it was my
own. The King was still sitting on the other side of the map-strewn
table, his hands still and flat on the papers, his eyes dark under
the straight brows. Between us the lamp dimmed, flickering in a
draught from under the shut door.

I stared at him, while my sight slowly
cleared. "What did I say?" He shook his head, smiling, and reached
for the wine jug. I said irritably: "It comes on me like a fainting
fit on a pregnant girl. I'm sorry. Tell me what I said?"

"You gave me a kingdom. And you gave
me immortality. What more is there? Drink now, Ambrosius'
prophet."

"Not wine. Is there water?"

"Here." He got to his feet. "And now
you must go and sleep, and so must I. I leave early for Maridunum.
You are sure you have no messages?"